Tummy Troubles
by Hades Lord of the Dead
Summary: In which Cas is worried, Sam is laughing and Dean learns the importance of a well-balanced diet.


**A/N **Written as a gift for my fabulous friend who I also hate because she introduced me to Supernatural just as I was starting GCSEs. This is for you _**lepetitfoxbigname. **_

Tummy Troubles

"Hello Sam."

Swearing, Sam slammed down hard on the brakes and reached instinctively for his gun before taking in the fact that it was _Castiel _in the car with him, and not some other, more unfriendly angel, (or worse, a demon). Cas was quick to apologise.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's okay Cas," Sam replied. He was just grateful there hadn't been a car behind him to smash into the Impala. "But er, how'd you find me?"

"Dean suggested we use the GPS on your phone." His face darkened. "Dean is actually the reason I'm here Sam. He is... not well."

Sam sighed. Was it so ridiculous to imagine that his brother could be left for more than a few days without getting into some kind of trouble? "What happened, was he on a case?"

"No... I do not believe so," Cas said, face thoughtful as he considered this. "He is in a great deal of pain and I have been unable to use my powers to heal him. I fear he has been poisoned."

"Wait, hold on a second - poisoned? How? You think someone got into the bunker and spiked his food or something?"

"Perhaps," said Cas, but he didn't seem interested in theorising on the hows or whys. "Sam I need your help researching whatever is wrong with him, as soon as possible. I- I don't know how much time Dean has."

Sam swallowed, hard. If Cas was worried then it must be serious.

"Ok, let me park up and you can fly me to the bunker."

#~#~#

Angel travel was enough to make anyone dizzy, but at the sight of his brother in a foetal position which could in no way be deemed comfortable, even with a memory foam mattress, Sam quickly regained his balance.

"Dean?"

"Hey Sammy," Dean grunted through clenched teeth. "You find Garth?"

"Not yet," Sam said, taking in his brother's pained expression and, more importantly, the discarded take-out boxes which were sprawled around the bedroom. "So Cas says you're not feeling too great. You wanna tell me about it?"

With what seemed to be a herculean effort, Dean pushed himself up so that he could face Sam properly. "My stomach is... it's bad man. It started a few days ago and when it got really bad I called Cas. Even he doesn't know what the hell's wrong with me..."

"Uh huh," said Sam, trying and failing to keep a straight face. "And was he the one who brought you-" he did a quick count of the boxes in the room, "-21 beef burgers?"

"I only bought 15 of them," Cas contributed. "I remembered you humans are partial to roasted cow meat and Dean said that the, er... "warrior food" would help him to recover. However it seems to have been ineffective."

Now Sam began to laugh properly, his shoulders shaking with mirth (and a little relief, now that he realised Dean was _not _on death's doorstep). Castiel looked shocked.

"I fail to see what is so amusing. Dean is-"

"Dean is _fine!"_ Sam gasped, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Hey! I am _not_ "fine"!"Dean yelled, before wincing in pain and clutching his stomach. He

glared at Sam, who struggled to regain his composure. "This isn't funny."

Taking pity on him, Sam stopped laughing and asked, "Dean, when was the last time you used a bathroom?"

"This morning. Why?"

"Did you crap?"

"_What_?" Dean looked suitably disgusted. "Well... no. Why do you care?"

"Dean." Sam looked at him, face utterly serious. "When was the _last time _you took a crap?

"Well I dunno. I guess it must have been... four, five days ag-" He broke off, confused. "Wait. That can't be right..."

Sam snorted. "You tell yourself that." He turned to Cas, who was clearly struggling to understand why Sam was not beside himself with worry. "Listen Cas, could you go and get some food? _Not_ burgers - healthy stuff. Fruit, vegetables."

"Of course."

"No, Cas hold on a second-" Dean began, but Cas had already disappeared into thin air. He looked to Sam instead. "Look man, this hurts way too bad for me to just be- to be-"

"Constipated? Dean if all you eat for a week is beefburgers what do you expect?"

"I didn't _just_ eat beefburgers," Dean muttered defensively. "I had some fruit..."

Sam raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Let me guess - blueberries?"

"Yeah. How'd you-?"

"You had a blueberry pie, didn't you?"

"... maybe."


End file.
